


love's for show (but i would die for you in secret)

by artemris



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Queen's Shadow Series - E. K. Johnston
Genre: (coincidentally but i'm glad to participate nonetheless!), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bechdel Test Pass, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Female Friendship, Femslash February, Heist, Naboo Royal Handmaidens (Star Wars), [slaps roof of fic] this bad boy can fit so many wonderful women in it, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:14:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29455101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemris/pseuds/artemris
Summary: "I'd give my life for yours, Padmé. Giving up my anonymity on Coruscant is a small price to pay to protect your reputation."---Padmé gets embroiled in some holonet drama with only one solution: she needs a date, fast. Things take a bit of a turn from there.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala & Naboo Royal Handmaiden Characters, Padmé Amidala/Sabé
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22
Collections: Star Wars Valentine's Exchange 2021





	love's for show (but i would die for you in secret)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roseofalderaan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseofalderaan/gifts).



> this was written for the star wars valentine's exchange 2021. thank you ever so much to @lilhawkeye3 for organising this event and to @thearohandmaiden for the wonderful prompts!
> 
> the prompts i went with for this piece were padmé/sabé: fake relationship and gala. i wrote this picturing it taking place sometime after queen's shadow and then realised anakin would be way too young hahaha so feel free to picture it whenever makes sense for you. happy valentine's, folks! i hope you enjoy!💗

Versé's brows have been furrowed all evening. 

She's been scanning the holonet for any intel they should be aware of, any new tricks the Trade Federation might have up their many respective sleeves, and the firm lines in her forehead aren't doing much to fill them with confidence. 

Sabé glances over at Padmé. She's been fretting the whole time, finding things to busy her hands with and new lines of enquiry for Dormé to keep her mind occupied. A dozen dresses have been taken out of the wardrobe and placed back in again with seemingly no reason behind it. They've heard a rundown of the day's senate session at least four times today. Sabé admires Padmé's patience, for many would have lost it long ago. It's one of the many qualities that made her perfect for the role of queen. 

But even queens have their breaking points. Finally she bursts. "What did you find, Verse?"

Versé's face goes slack instantly, a mask of perfect neutrality. If they hadn’t been with her the whole time, they might have mistaken her calm as natural. "Everything is quiet with Gunray for a change; it’s almost unsettling. Still… no news is good news, I suppose. But that just means the ‘net has moved onto other topics to fill the tabloids. Some of the news outlets have begun to attack your character again: they say you've been spending too much time with the young Jedi and that an illicit relationship with a Jedi isn't a good look for a senator."

Padmé lets out an incredulous laugh. "Anakin? I knew him when he was a child; I'm not dating him!"

"Of course not." Versé looks apologetic, but she soldiers on. "However, the holonet seems to think otherwise and that is very bad news for us."

"So," she says, turning to address the other three women in the room as well. "Our job now is damage control. We need a plan."

Sabé would be concerned about the situation if not for the fact that it happens so often. Padmé’s been battling tabloid scandals since before her adult teeth had even grown in. Thankfully, she has a solid support behind her: Sabé would never be so bold as to boast about her own skill set, but the Royal Handmaidens are recognised as Naboo’s finest, mind and body. Despite not having known her latest sistren for long, Sabé works almost as well with them as she did her own peers. A couple more years to refine their techniques and their bonds, and she doubts even the sith hells could keep them down. 

It appears that Versé already has some ideas of her own from the expression on her face. She extends the datapad in her hand to Padmé, all traces of her newsnet search vanished, save for a single message. 

Padmé’s eyes scan over the words quickly. “A gala? Why would Clovis be thinking about galas when we have so much else to think about? Lott Dod alone made it a personal mission to block every bill today that doesn’t serve him in some way or other.”

“Maybe that’s exactly why. Serving in the senate is a high-pressure job and a gala like this is the perfect opportunity to unwind, not forgetting all of the networking opportunities. I didn’t want to bring it up until I had more information to work with, but his invitation seems innocent enough. Besides, I happened to notice something at the end about a plus one… You know what they say, two birds—"

“Three birds,” Dormé chimes in. “We all know the Banking Clan has been engaging in underhand dealings since the dawn of time, but we’ve never had the evidence to do anything about it. An invitation to Scipio might be exactly what we’ve been waiting for.”

Even after a lengthy discussion of the finer points of Dormé’s plan, Padmé still isn’t convinced. The plan has so many moving parts and even the simplest aspect seems like a challenge.

“Where am I even going to find a date to begin with?” she asks.

“You could always ask another senator. I’m sure they’d be happy to make some kind of deal with you.”

“At the small price of having me at their will when they bring up a new proposal,” Padmé replies, her delicate eyebrows pulled into a frown. “Besides, the only senator I’d even consider trusting with this is already married, as you all know well.”

“Why not just ask Clovis directly?” Cordé asks, lips pursed in thought.

“He seems harmless enough, but I would describe my relationship with Senator Clovis as a fragile alliance at best. I’m afraid he might read too much into the request. Besides, it feels wrong to ask him if the plan is to pry into his family’s private affairs without his knowledge.”

“Well,” Sabé says, stretching languidly on the sofa like a loth cat. It’s nice to be able to relax again; she’d almost forgotten how it feels not to wear the blank mask and rigid posture of her duties. Perhaps that’s what leads her to her next suggestion. Or perhaps it really is just the simplest solution. “What about one of us?”

She’s met with three looks of uncertainty. Only Padmé has known her long enough to recognise the earnestness in her eyes. There's a slight frown on Padmé's face as she considers the implications. Sabé knows what she's thinking. She knows it would be a risk: to offer up Cordé or herself would remove the decoy manoeuvre from their repertoire permanently. For Dormé and Versé, their inclusion in this plot would make their presence in the senate chamber alongside Amidala a conspicuous target for tabloid scandals. 

Yet there's no one in the galaxy more reliable. No one who could pull such a deception off with such ease. The handmaidens of Naboo have been trained to serve their lady in any way she might need. It's a risk Sabé is willing to take.

"We could…" Cordé begins, but she’s quickly cut off by Padmé. 

"I couldn't let any of you compromise yourselves like that. It would be unwise as a senator, but it would be even more unfair as your friend.”

Sabé can see the conflict in her eyes. There's only one of them who isn't by her side on Coruscant each day. Only one who could undertake this task without significant impact on their daily duties. Sabé hadn’t known the answer when she suggested this route, but the force tends to get its way in the end.

"I'll do it", she says.

“Sabé…” Padmé’s eyes seem to plead with her. Sabé wants nothing more than to fold to her will, but her main duty has always been to protect Padmé. She can tell the exact moment Padmé recognises the resolve in her expression; she’s the one Sabé learned it from after all.

“We’re not discussing this right now. We’ll find another solution, but for now I need some time to think,” she says after a fraught moment. The air around them crackles with unresolved tension, but Padmé barely seems to notice as she sweeps into her bedroom, skirts fanning out behind her. 

The four handmaidens exchange furrowed expressions. No one dares break the silence left in Padmé’s wake. She rarely loses her composure, even for the briefest of minutes, but her untethered heart has always been her weakness.

\---

Later, in Padmé's chambers, Sabé sits behind Padmé on the bed, brushing out her wroshyr-dark tresses. Padmé isn’t one to hold onto her frustration and it's comforting to slip back into old routine so easily. Sabé has spent countless days and innumerable nights running a brush, a comb, her fingers, through the queen's hair in gentle comfort. Hair was always Rabé's domain, but there were no limits placed on these casual gestures of intimacy.

Now, though, there's a distance that wasn't there before. They haven't discussed Sabé's idea since she suggested it, even though Padmé has long since let go of any agitation.

She decides to bring it up before Padmé settles down to sleep, unable to hold onto it through the night. 

“Sabé, you know it would be too much for me to ask of you,” Padmé says. Her lips don’t quite pout, but they certainly make a good attempt.

Sabé shrugs. As far as she’s concerned, Padmé could order her to the furthest ends of the known galaxy and she’d go willingly. 

"I'd give my life for yours, Padmé. Giving up my anonymity on Coruscant is a small price to pay to protect your reputation."

"I couldn't ask you to do that. You're a wonderful ally and my closest confidant, but more than that, you're my friend and I want you to have the most comfortable life you can, without my interfering with that."

A soft sigh escapes her and she seems to deflate, laying her head down on Sabé's shoulder. "Why can't things ever be easy? Just once? We used to have such fun, all of us. But since I came here it feels like there's been nothing but constant threats from every corner. Is this how every politician feels?"

Sabé adjusts her position on the bed slightly to better allow herself to wrap an arm around Padmé's shoulders. She hates to see Padmé so vulnerable. In the years they've known each other, Sabé has seen every side of Padmé Amidala, but she’d trade all the riches on Naboo to never see this one again. After a second, Padmé’s hand slides up to hold hers. 

“There isn’t a single soul in this galaxy who has gone through the hardships you have, Padmé. No one else could have weathered what you have. You were the youngest queen ever elected, forced to face a crisis that Naboo hasn’t faced in living memory. You may have been thrown in at the deep end here on Coruscant, but my faith in you has never faltered.”

"I just feel as though every day brings another, more challenging decision for me to make. You're right that I'm no stranger to difficult decisions, but it's different when they affect so much more than just myself. You all risk so much for me," Padmé protests. 

It's not that Padmé doesn't appreciate her words, Sabé knows, but she has always been far too compassionate for her own good. She's been warned more than once that such compassion will be her downfall, but if anything, the warnings have only made her more empathetic out of defiance. It's a trait Sabé hopes Coruscant never hardens. It's also a trait that Sabé needs to temper, just this once.

“Everyone has their own choices to make; we’ve made ours. And more importantly, I have made mine.”

The fight seems to leave Padmé’s body all at once, seeping out of her in dregs of liquid tension. She hates to disagree with any of her handmaidens and the weight of it pulls her down like durite on shoulders. She slides further down into the cosy expanse of bedsheets, her face still pressed into the warmth of Sabé’s side. 

She breathes something against Sabé’s pyjama-clad body that Sabé can’t quite make out. It doesn’t matter. Padmé’s eyes are sleep-heavy and softly focused, her voice little more than a sigh. Sabé will never forget how lucky she is to see her like this, to be trusted with such closeness. Sometimes Padmé is most mesmerising when she doesn’t even mean to be.

“Sleep, Padmé,” Sabé murmurs, running a hand over Padmé’s cheek. She follows her down, one arm still wound around her shoulders.

It’s the first time in years that Sabé hasn’t spent the night in her own chambers. 

\---

When it comes to preparedness, no one is more efficient than Versé. She gives them their briefing in Padmé’s perfume-scented living room while Dormé prepares their looks for the evening.

"So, this one is going to be a little less surreptitious than we're used to. Sabé, you're going to draw a lot of attention, but I'm still going to need you both to be on the lookout for anything shady."

Sabé raises her eyebrows in acknowledgement, unable to move anything else lest she disturb Dormé as her hands work their magic on her face. 

She's paying special attention to their makeup, making sure to emphasise the differences in their facial features. Sabé's slightly wider face; Padmé's slightly more arched brows. The mole on Padmé's left cheek has been painted over to emphasise its appearance in contrast to Sabé's unmarked skin. While the decoy ploy relies on the physical resemblance between the two, this one requires a more overt approach. Sabé is unused to having her individuality on display in such a manner.

"Is there anything in particular we should be aware of?" Padmé asks from her seat beside Sabé, free for the moment from Dormé's ministrations.

Cordé, who's been watching quietly for the most part, pipes up from the opposite sofa, "There will be guards stationed at each of the building's weak points - doors, windows, anything they want to keep locked down, which, odds are, is exactly where you'll want to be."

Versé nods her approval. “I managed to infiltrate their security systems - really, you’d think with all their money they’d have a tighter handle on things - so I’ll be able to guide you to some extent. I wasn’t able to obtain a detailed holomap of the interior, but I did gain access to the guard’s shift patterns and internal comms.”

Padmé’s laugh tinkles in the tense silence. She’s never let anything daunting put her off before. “Versé, have I ever told you how brilliant you are?”

“You could say it a little more,” the slicer replies, a slight quirk to the corner of her mouth. “I’ve also procured some in-ear comms so I can keep you updated while you’re out there.”

She slides a pair of matching earpieces across the low caf table in front of them. Dormé pulls back from Sabé’s face, dropping her brush gently beside them and busies herself with something in one of her expansive pockets. She pulls out two pairs of ornate earrings with triumph on her face. “I designed these to draw attention from the comms. They’ll cover most of your ear, but won’t interfere with functionality.”

Dormé may not be Rabé, but her skills are every bit a match. Sabé finds herself increasingly impressed with the newer fold of handmaidens every day. She might be biased, but there truly are no finer talents in the galaxy than the women of Naboo.

"You’ll be going in blind when it comes to finding your way around, but I'll be in your ear the whole time if you need anything," Versé finishes. "It won't be easy, but we've done worse. Any questions?"

Sabé flashes one of her lesser seen, more mischievous smiles. "Will there be an open bar?"

\---

There's no open bar to Sabé's dismay. There is, however, a seemingly endless supply of expensive wine for her to pin her hopes of loose-lipped guests to.

It’s a bustling event with no expense spared. Everywhere Sabé looks, she can see people mingling. Guests from as far as the Outer Rim gather together, hands on arms, heads’ thrown back laughing. Her eyes land on a smartly dressed Ithorian chatting animatedly with a Dathomirian woman who wears a crown of gold that sparkles like kyber when the light hits it just right. It’s not a pairing she’d ever expected to see, but she gets the feeling tonight is going to be full of surprises. 

For once, Sabé is dressed as herself, all of Amidala's gowns abandoned for a few brief hours. Instead of her usual opulence, Dormé has chosen a more subdued teal for her dress, a symbol of Naboo’s lushness and fertility. Everything is a statement in politics: this, Sabé has known for a long time. The dress’s hemline is long enough to trail on the floor when she walks, but the material is lightweight enough not to restrict her movement and easy to tear off should she need to. A tulle cape flows weightlessly off her shoulders down her back like one of Naboo’s signature waterfalls. It, too, is designed to be abandoned if need be, fastened at the neck with simple clips. 

Wearing a matching cape in pale gold, Padmé looks more regal than ever. Her outfit is designed less around practicality and more for aesthetics, though Dormé, ever sensible, has added some adjustments for good measure. The dress shifts like water every time Padmé moves and shimmers just the same. In her tightly braided updo, she wears small white flowers, scattered throughout her hair like a smattering of stars. She has always been beautiful. Tonight she is breathtaking.

They move through the crowd together, eyes scanning for anything of interest. The wealth of the Banking Clan is on full display before them, with seemingly endless platters of food piled high upon a table at the back of the room. Servants slip like sleen through the throngs of tightly-packed guests, carrying trays laden with the most expensive wines. Sabé abhors such declarations of wealth, particularly when the mistreatment of those less fortunate is so plainly presented for everyone to see. Beside her, Padmé’s shoulders stiffen slightly, but years of practice prevent her from revealing anything more of her feelings. Yet it seems they’re the only ones who see the problem: compassion is not a trait shared by all. 

Despite her discomfort, Sabé knows enough about fitting in to feign ignorance as she snags two glasses from one of the passing servants. She makes a mental note to speak to Padmé later about the possibility of bringing it up in the senate chamber, if Padmé hasn’t already thought of it first. 

"I still don't see why we couldn't have gone with the decoy manoeuvre," Sabé whispers as they survey the room, her voice a low thrum in Padmé's ear. She has to lean down to do so - usually they're of a height, but tonight Sabé dons a pair of sparkling heels that are designed to snap off into a pointed blade should she be separated from the blaster on her thigh. It's a damning indictment of how the night is expected to go.

Padmé presses herself further into Sabé's side and turns her head in a practiced, beautiful, intimate gesture that is anything but. "You can't be me all the time, Sabé. But at least this way I can keep you close."

It's a diplomatic, almost romantic, way of saying this is a bodyguard situation, but Sabé hadn't expected anything less. 

It doesn't take long before Padmé is flagged down by a jovial Rodian woman whom Sabé is as yet unfamiliar with. Her green hands reach out in greeting as though she and Padmé are old friends and not strangers meeting for the first time. Perhaps the wine is already beginning to loosen up their fellow guests.

"What an honour to meet the Senator from Naboo!” she calls, her voice surprisingly loud against the hubbub of the crowd. “As I understand the Chancellor himself is from your fine planet, no?"

Padmé offers the woman a dazzling smile. Even this close, Sabé's certain there's only one person who can tell she's faking it. "That's right. We're all very proud of our planet’s fine representation in the senate. And to whom do I owe this pleasure?"

The woman flushes a darker shade of green, evidently pleased to be treated with such importance. “Ilnoo Oksee, Rodian Ambassador. But, Senator, where are my manners? Please do introduce us to your companion.”

Sabé, who’s been surveying the room surreptitiously while Padmé speaks, raises her head and pulls her shoulders back. It’s not her regal pose, but it’s one that draws more attention to itself than her regular stance, which is designed to let her slip by in situations unnoticed. Padmé slips her arm around Sabé’s waist before she answers. 

“This is my partner, Tsabin.”

“A pleasure,” Sabé offers, flashing her teeth in a gesture that’s both a greeting and a veiled warning. Oksee blinks her large, star-speckled eyes. Once. Twice. 

“By partner you mean…?”

“Oh, Ilnoo, surely the definition of partner isn't so different in the Outer Rim," Padmé says with a light laugh. "My partner in work, love and everything in life. Everything I've gone through, I've gone through with her by my side."

“You must pardon my surprise, Senator, I had heard you were involved with a Jedi back on Coruscant.” Her glittering eyes are wide, hungry for gossip to feed the ever-growing rumour mill.

In that moment, Versé's genius truly shines. Sabé really must thank her when they return to Coruscant. It’s been a while since they’ve all had an opportunity to celebrate - she might even treat them all to a home baked jogan fruit cake if she can find the ingredients.

“You heard wrong, I’m afraid. Padmé and I have been together for many years now. I wouldn’t believe what you read on the holonet,” Sabé tells her, more amused by the half-truth than she ought to be.

When they part ways, Sabé feels so confident in her role that she imagines they could fool even Padmé’s own family. It’s a good thing, too, considering how many strangers have set their hearts on an audience with them. Senators are a dime a dozen at parties like this, but Senator Amidala is in high demand tonight. They make small talk with gilded politicians and rub shoulders with banking giants, keeping one eye open all the while for anything of interest. 

Sabé’s a glass down and no further forward when Padmé nudges her arm. The wine sparkles pleasantly on her tongue, but it does little to help her find what they’re looking for. The crowd is much too dense and without a holomap every doorway seems to look the same. She’s eliminated those nearer the main entrance, as well as those closest to the spread of desserts - inviting strangers into their shadiest business deals hardly seems like the Banking Clan’s smartest move. Unfortunately that still leaves a dozen options with no privacy to even scope them out. 

“Do you see that?” Padmé asks. Her eyes are fixed on a side door that stands out by doing precisely nothing to stand out. “There’s been a guard positioned within view of that door constantly since we arrived, but it looks the same as every other door. What do they have to worry about guarding behind that one?”

She’s right. Somehow Sabé hadn’t noticed it before, but it seems so obvious when she stops to observe it. Every so often, a guard will pass it and cast their gaze around the room before returning to their post feet away or across the room. Regardless, it's always within sight of the door. As far as she can tell from looking at the guards now as they stand, there hasn’t been a single moment that the door hasn’t been under surveillance. It speaks volumes about what might be hiding behind it. They’ve found their target.

Unfortunately they don’t make it far before they’re stopped again, this time by the last person Sabé wants to speak to. A silky bronze waistcoat accentuates the golden tattoos on the man’s forehead and a pair of shining bracers adorn his forearms. His dark hair is slicked back and even from afar, the cologne he wears wafts the scent of money. Sabé has never met Rush Clovis personally, but she’d recognise him anywhere.

“Padmé!” he calls in a jovial tone. His gleaming white teeth conjure up images of a dire-cat that's finally caught its prey and Sabé struggles to pull her face into a smile as they greet him.

“Senator Clovis,” Padmé says. “How wonderful to see you again. I must thank you for your invitation; this gala is truly splendorous.”

“Oh, Padmé, there’s no need for such formalities! You are among friends here. Have you had a drink yet? Someone get the senator a drink!”

He catches a nearby server by the elbow as Padmé protests. “No, really, that won’t be necessary.”

“Nonsense! Tonight is an opportunity for us all to be free of our duties, to revel and make merry. There’s a reason I specifically requested no security details. No guards, no weapons, just yourselves and your fine company.”

At that he seems to finally notice Sabé. He’d seen her as they approached, but his eyes had been immediately drawn to Padmé. Sabé’s used to that. Padmé has a magnetic air about her: people simply can't help but be attracted to her. What she isn’t used to is being directly addressed when all she’s done is blend into the background. After all, who would waste their time with fireflies when they're stood beside the brightest star?

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met before,” Clovis says. He sounds genuinely apologetic for his manners, though Sabé still isn’t sure how to take him.

“A pleasure, Senator Clovis. My name is Tsabin. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She extends her hand in greeting and is surprised when he takes it to his lips.

“What a beautiful name. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Tsabin, although I must confess I’ve heard nothing about you. Why didn’t you introduce me to your charming friend, Padmé?”

Padmé looks down, her face bashful. Introducing people to her handmaidens is the last thing she usually wants to do. 

“Tsabin is my partner,” she tells him, meeting his eye once again. Her hand snakes around Sabé’s waist again, squeezing lightly over her hip. Warmth seems to spread in every direction from Padmé’s fingertips, lighting Sabé up from the inside out. She's never felt so comfortable in such an uncomfortable situation. She leans into the touch, with her full body pressed against Padmé's side and her cheek just brushing against her hair.

Clovis’s reaction is worth a thousand credits. His face morphs through a number of different expressions in the course of a few seconds - confusion, disappointment, distaste and chagrin, before settling into a grim smile. 

“I didn’t know you were seeing someone, Padmé.”

“You know I like to keep my personal life private,” Padmé reminds him. Her voice is as sweet as syrup. She hopes it’s enough to cure the bad taste in Clovis’s mouth. 

“Of course, of course. Well, I must say it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Tsabin. You’re a very lucky woman to have snagged the heart of Naboo’s most beautiful pearl.”

Sabé’s lips curl. She can’t help but admire the irony, though she can’t laugh outwardly. Padmé is so much more than even his clumsy metaphors can capture and Sabé is fortunate to be by her side, but he has no idea how false his statement is. Sabé would be a lucky woman indeed if she had actually managed to sneak her way into her affections.

She wonders where the conversation might have gone from there had Verse’s voice not come through her earpiece at that exact moment. "They should be due a guard change any minute now. Keep your eyes open."

"Ah," Padmé says, turning to look behind her with her mouth slightly agape. "I think I hear someone calling me. Why don't we continue this another time?"

The skin between Clovis's eyebrows contracts and for a fleeting moment he looks absolutely repugnant, his handsome and youthful features overshadowed by the flash of irritation. It's gone just as quickly as it appeared. "I don't hear anyone," he says as his tattoos settle back into place.

"No, you're right, I hear it too," Sabé cuts in. "I'm sorry to have to cut our meeting short like this, Senator Clovis."

She glances back at the side door; a guard slides out unnoticed by the other guests, his glinting armour blending in perfectly with the shimmering splendour of the room around them. She never thought she'd say it, but she's thankful for Clovis's single-minded fascination with Padmé: he doesn't follow her gaze.

"Now, Padmé," Clovis reproaches. He reaches out to catch hold of Padmé’s sleeve. It takes all of Sabé's strength not to drop him right there. Years of training cumulate in the taut smile she directs his way. "It's been so long since we've been able to catch up properly. Stay a little longer, won't you? I'm sure whoever it is that wishes to speak with you won't mind you stopping to chat with your host."

There's undue weight placed on the word host, Sabé thinks. Padmé's shrunken posture adds extra weight to her judgment. She’s made up her mind about him and her opinion isn’t a favourable one. They need to get rid of this fool quickly before he becomes a dangerous fool. 

"We're running out of time here," Versé urges. 

Sabé is startled by the reminder, despite her awareness of the situation. Their window of opportunity is closing rapidly. They need to do something now. 

Several things happen at once. Sabé sticks her foot out as a nearby guest makes their way past her, far too caught up in conversation to see what’s going on. The oblivious partygoer trips forward and his feet catch the edge of Sabé’s train, tearing off the lower half of the dress and sending him stumbling backwards into a passing servant. There’s a crash of shattered glass as the pair collide. Padmé grabs Sabé’s hand in the chaos and they push through the growing crowd of onlookers, blending into the sea of extravagance. Neither looks back to witness Clovis's emergence from the pool of fabric and priceless wine, though his expression surely would have been worth just as much.

It’s not a move Sabé ought to take any measure of pride in (though secretly she does), but it's certainly effective. 

“We’re moving!” Padmé tells Versé in a stage whisper. The high heels don’t make their escape an easy feat, but they’ve trained in all sorts of challenges. Impractical footwear won’t be the thing that stops them.

“Good.” Versé’s voice has a hint of mirth to it, even through the static of the comm. “Your little stunt has pinged all over the internal comms. Nicely done. I’ve taken the liberty of rewriting some of the orders: there’s an all-points bulletin for the commotion in the ballroom. I don’t think you’ll run into any resistance from here.”

They bolt down a long corridor, heels clacking a traitorous signal as they go. It’s muffled to some degree by the plush carpet that runs down the middle of the hall, but Sabé would rather not linger. She’s sure Padmé would agree.

A trail of portraits follow them down. They’re in too much of a hurry to appreciate the finer details and Eirtaé was always the artist of them, but there’s a certain humour to be found in the lone human portrait, an outcast in a field of grey skin. 

The door they reach at the end of the corridor resembles a door in the way a krayt dragon resembles a porg. It’s much taller than the others and so slim their shoulders would knock against the metal doorframe if they approached it head on. There’s no handle, nor panel to grant them access. If they’d passed it any quicker they could have easily convinced themselves it was simply an accent feature and not a door at all.

Sabé fumbles with her skirt, thankfully much shorter now. She reaches into the holster on her thigh and pulls out a keycard. Versé might have more tricks up her sleeve when it comes to technology, but Sabé has a few of her own. She’d swiped the card as they entered the gala while one of the guards scanned them for weapons. It hadn’t taken much to distract him, just a few sweet words here and there. The scanner barely glanced at her body and no one had bothered to pat her down. The blaster at her thigh would argue that was a mistake on their part, but Sabé’s glad to have it with her and even more glad that she hasn’t had to use it yet.

With the identification card in hand, Sabé presses it against the smooth metal. A second later, the door slides open with a gentle whoosh as the pressure in the room is released. 

The room itself is unexpectedly dark; Sabé wishes one of them had thought to bring a torch of some description. There’s no papertrace in sight, not that she really expected one - most people use flimsi as a last resort. Rather, one wall is taken up by a huge display of servers, each one sleekly painted and neatly wired. Another wall is dedicated to a blinking screen, so large that it really shouldn’t be called a wall at all. Sabé drops down immediately, searching for an access terminal.

“Here!” Padmé hisses and she follows her to a nondescript box in the corner. It’s been covered over by personal articles, stationery, dress jewels. Anything someone might have accidentally left behind has been left here. It’s so natural looking, so uncared for, that she knows it’s deliberate. 

They brush the artifacts to the side, just enough to access the terminal. They don’t want to leave a trace that’ll get them detected. Sabé swipes her card in the slot; truthfully she doesn’t know if this will work. She has no idea what kind of clearance is needed to unlock the Muuns’ secrets or whether it’s even possible at all. 

Her heart pounds against her chest, far too loud in the silence around them. The terminal blinks. It unlocks.

“Oh, thank force,” Padmé whispers. Her chin presses down on Sabé’s shoulder as she cranes to get a better look. 

Sabé’s fingers fly across the keypad. Her slicing skills are mediocre, but the hard part is already over with. She flicks through folder after folder of potentially incriminating evidence until finally one catches her eye: _Financial Reports 3ARS-13ARS._

“This is it, Padmé! If they’ve been up to anything nefarious, it’ll all be in here.” She’s caught off guard by her own excitement as she hits download. The bar ticks along so much slower than she’d like it to.

She’s almost finished by the time she hears the footsteps. Versé crackles to life at the same moment: “-you hear me? Your signal is being bl----ed by some----- in th---. -- careful. You’ve got incoming.”

“Sithspit!” 

Sabé’s eyes dart around the room for some form of cover, anything they could use to hide themselves, but it’s hopeless. The room is mostly empty, save for the servers and even those wouldn’t do anything for them. Padmé does the same, with the added consideration of checking the room for vents. There must be some alternative exit, no matter how well hidden.

The footsteps grow louder. Sabé’s mind scrambles for a plan. She decides to take a risk. After all, things can’t really get worse from here.

"Padmé. I need you to trust me for a moment."

She places her hands gently on Padmé's cheeks. She can feel the frantic pace of her pulse beneath her fingers. Her eyes are wide, rabbit-like, but her faith in Sabé is unwavering. 

"Always."

Sabé leans in first, but Padmé meets her halfway. The first touch of their lips is tender, almost hesitant, as though they're each made of glass. It soon picks up pace; Padmé’s mouth falls open and Sabé is quick to claim it. Their lips move together as though the whole thing has been choreographed and they both know which move is coming next. Sabé almost forgets why they're standing here, doing this; the approaching footsteps blend into the rhythmic beating of her heart. 

The moment doesn't last. A guard shoves the door open harshly, blaster at the ready. It's lowered just as quickly, though Sabé still has her back to him. They break apart.

"Excuse me, Senator." He speaks to Sabé then, feet shuffling uncertainly. "Ma'am."

When Sabé turns she’s surprised by the youth of the boy that she sees. His schoolboy face is tinged pink and his eyes seek anything but theirs. It's cute, in a way. It's better than Sabé could have hoped for. A public display of affection was always a risky move, but she’s hit the jackpot here. The boy can’t be older than eighteen.

“Guests aren’t supposed to be in this area. I’m going to need you to come with me,” he tells them. His blaster rises again hesitantly. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Sabé says, switching on her most innocent voice. She can play the blushing maiden when she needs to. “We were just looking for somewhere a little more private… away from the crowd. I’m sure you understand. We just stumbled down here and, well, the door was open.”

He frowns at her, eyes narrowed in what could be confusion or suspicion, depending on how she looks at him. His arm starts to creep down and Sabé silently begs him to lower the blaster entirely. She really doesn’t want to make a scene here tonight. 

“It was open, you say?” 

His face expresses doubt, but it’s the only explanation that doesn’t require a great leap in logic. It’s much easier to believe one of the previous guards were lax in their duties than to accuse a respected senator and her lover of breaking into a secure room to… what? Steal from them? Nothing has been left out of place, they made sure of that. Their explanation is definitely odd, but it beats the alternative. 

There’s a beat where Sabé isn’t sure if things are about to get a lot more difficult. Padmé’s hand finds hers, wrapped between them like a safety net of comfort. But then the guard gives them an accepting nod and drops his blaster back to his side and Sabé can feel herself breathe again. 

“I apologise for the inconvenience, Senators, but if neither of you are harmed I’m going to have to ask you to make your way back to the main ballroom. I’ll be sure to start an inquiry as to how there could have been such a failure in our security.”

He can start an inquiry, Sabé thinks, but he isn't going to find anything. Versé never leaves a mark.

Padmé surges forward fretfully. “Oh, thank you! I had no idea we could have been in danger this whole time. I hope we didn’t cause you any trouble.”

He squares his shoulders in what he probably thinks is an impressive posture. His chubby cheeks dampen the image a little. “It’s okay, just be careful, please. Your safety here is our priority.”

“Of course, we will!” Padmé flashes a devastating grin as they detangle themselves from the situation, grateful to still have their cover intact. 

Sabé’s just glad he didn’t decide to interrogate them further. She’d have a hard time explaining the datachip in her bra.

\---

They’re already back on the ship, giggling like the girls they once were when Sabé fires off a message to Clovis that’s equal parts reprimanding and apologetic. 

_Senator Amidala extends her deepest apologies to Senator Clovis for her sudden departure. It was no longer advisable for the Senator to remain in such a perilous situation given the night’s security breach. Senator Amidala offers her thanks for your generous hospitality regardless and sends her wishes that these failings will be quickly resolved._

“There,” Sabé says, handing the datapad to Padmé. “How does that sound?”

As Padmé’s eyes scan over the message, she tries to force a disapproving look onto her face. It’s offset somewhat by the amused pull of her lips. 

“You are a menace, Sabé,” she says with a light tsk. She hits send anyway.

"I think that went well, all things considered," Sabé muses. The sceptical look Padmé sends her in response is more than fair.

"Do I need to remind you that we got caught?"

Padmé's tone teeters on the edge of stern, but her eyes sparkle with amusement. Her cheeks still haven't lost their rosy tinge from laughing. She's the most beautiful being Sabé has ever known. She takes a deep breath to steady herself before she speaks. There's something about this moment that seems to stretch out in every direction, a million tiny threads tugging at Sabé’s thoughts. 

"It was worth it," she says. Her voice comes out much quieter than she intends. She's never been shy before.

"Sabé…" Padmé doesn't attempt to feign confusion; she and Sabé understand each other far too well for that to be anything less than an insult. "I didn’t realise.”

They're already so close, curled side by side on Sabé's cot. Sabé can still smell a hint of wine on Padmé's breath and the undercurrent of her perfume, as familiar as a lullaby. It would be easy to lean in now, to kiss her again. She can almost taste her heart drumming a beat at the back of her throat. 

Padmé takes the lead this time. Escaped strands of deep brown hair tickle Sabé's face as their lips meet, but Sabé can't focus on anything but how perfect Padmé’s mouth fits against hers. She tastes like fancy wine and jogan fruit and every single dream Sabé's ever had. Her hands find their way to the small of Padmé’s back, settling into the dip like they were made to do it. She tries to press every unsaid feeling into the kiss like it's a secret language they can only share through touch.

If Padmé understands, Sabé will never know for sure, but the way she smiles against her lips feels like an answer. Feels like a promise.

When they draw apart, their faces are even more flushed than before. Sabé's body feels lighter than it ever has before. 

"I think you're right," Padmé whispers. Her fingers slot between Sabé's as perfect as complementary puzzle pieces.

Sabé let out an unexpected laugh, all of her anxiety already dissipated into the air between them. "You say that as though I'm not always right."

The flight back to Coruscant is quick, all tangled limbs and meiloorun-sweet kisses. Sabé has long been called the queen's shadow, but there's nowhere in the galaxy she'd rather be than by Padmé's side.

**Author's Note:**

> [screams] i love padmé and sabé so much


End file.
